Paradise
by amorae
Summary: Larten finally got tired of not staring at her—he decided it was impossible—and looked into her dark eyes. He was rather shocked of how he was beginning to feel about Arra. Lotsa LartenxArra fluff.


Woo...my first Cirque Du Freak fanfiction. It's just a fluffy little thing I whiped up on one of my favorite couples--the Larten CrepsleyxArra Sails couple. :3 Dun everyone just loove that couple? As my friend said "It's a hard but sweet couple to write about" so forgive me if you don't like it. Yeah, I kind of infered a few things, but I think over all you guys will like the result. :)

Just something to show my love of CDF. Nothing else to say. Hah.

Disclaimer: I am not Darren Shan. Darren Shan is not even Darren "Shan", but that is neither here nor there. I do not claim to own Larten Crepsley, Arra Sails, Vanez Blade, Vancha March, or Seba Nile. I never will claim that, because I love his books too much. So please understand that as you read this fanfiction. Thankyou, and have a great day. -winks-

* * *

Larten Crepsley stared up at the darkening sky on the outskirts of Vampire Mountain. He sighed heavily as he stared into the deep expanse that so many of his kind called "Paradise." But…what was "Paradise," exactly? Well, Larten knew what the concept of Paradise was, but he wasn't exactly sure what it was. How could it be a paradise to every vampire? Every vampire was different. Larten's idea of a "paradise" would be bottles of blood and vampaneze to fight everywhere, while the Prince Vancha March's "paradise" would be endless expanses of weapons such as shruikens and knives, and of course raw meat, milk, and blood littered everywhere. Larten wanted to know how _one single place _could satisfy every vampire that ever walked the earth.

Also, another idea plagued him constantly; _how _did you get into this Paradise, exactly? Did you just not create any more half vampires? Did you only change adults and not children, as the unfortunate Paris Skyle was changed? Or did you live life by only drinking as much as you needed to live?

The concept made no sense to Larten. He opened his tightly clutched hand and brought his gaze down to the five tiny pricks on his fingers. The cuts that marked him as a vampire, the monsters from folklore that killed left and right. The cuts helped vampires recognize one another, of course—for that, the cuts were helpful—but what about that rare oddity human who knew about vampires, and how they were truly changed? How did it help them then?

His memory swept him away to the night he had first met the vampire, Seba Nile, at the ripe age of twenty two. _How foolish I was, _he mocked himself cruelly. _I thought life was so horrible. So horrible I begged a vampire to change me. How idiotic. _He shook his head in disgust at the thoughts that swirled around his mind, tiny ghost trails left from the day over fifty years ago that he was changed.

But, of course, he had to admit that he had no specific hatred to the vampire that had changed him. In fact, he was quite fond of Seba, his tutor and best friend. Seba had played the role of a father figure when Larten needed it, prodding him when he strayed off the track. Seba was a hard but fair teacher, and Larten knew he was lucky to have been taught by such a prestigious vampire. He winced as he wrinkled his nose in memory of the days when Seba tried to help Larten talk more like him.

The more Larten thought, he had to admit that he was not exactly angry he had become a vampire; he was more…_confused_. As a child, Larten heard the horrid tales of evil monsters that came in the dead of night to suck you dry of your life source and leave you a withered husk, all your blood drained completely. But, the vampire he was did not kill, not at all. His kind didn't use ultra sharp poison dipped fangs to drink blood; they had sharper nails, and ripped open a vein and drank the nectar that way. And they healed the cuts after they were finished, too.

So…who had gotten the stories wrong? Of course, he knew that the story of vampires killing had come from the notorious vampaneze, but why pin the blame on vampires? Vampires tried not to kill, and most of the time did not—unless the human was threatening the vampire's life. But, even humans killed when they felt their lives in danger, so why were vampires any worse than humans? Just because vampires had a strange appetite to human blood and could not come out during the day, humans automatically thought them evil. How did a vampire drinking a human's blood differ from a human eating a piece of steak? And what about those unfortunate humans who had allergic reactions to the sun? They were not shunned from human society as vampires were. Not that vampires particularly cared, but still…

Was it the vampire tendency to live much longer than humans—up to one thousand years—or was it the undying desire to hunt? Larten bit his lip and dug his unscarred face deep into his hands as he tried to work out the mysteries of the vampire and human world.

As a general-in-training, Larten was to abide to the strict rules of the generals, which meant that he was supposed to kill any human or vampaneze that threatened the vampires. Larten didn't necessarily mind the fact of killing the vampaneze—_bloodthirsty leeches, _he spat in his head—but…killing humans wasn't exactly on his agenda. He knew he was a young vampire and his opinions didn't matter, but somehow that just didn't seem right.

_But like they would listen to me, _he groaned miserably as he pulled his lean face away from his calloused hands and raised his head to the sky again. _Only twenty years earlier I was prancing around the Halls saying we should change more humans and have them help us prepare for the War of the Scars. Feh. _Larten snorted at the idea of his younger self saying that. Now, after only twenty years, he knew very well that the idea of changing more humans was idiotic and suicidal. There was no need to strut down the alleyways of New York or London or even Tokyo and change any human that dared cross their path.

"Gods of the vampires," he moaned audibly, not thinking that there was the possibility of anyone around.

So, for that reason, it was a shock when the familiar female voice that always sent ripples of fear and other emotions that he would rather not admit he had down his spine.

"Trying to decipher vampire physics, Larten?" Arra Sails mocked. Larten spun around, almost too quickly, and stared into her brooding eyes. Her rough features would never display a smile, but he could see that her lips were pulled into something other than her normal scowl, which meant something very impressive indeed.

"Not exactly," Larten responded coolly, trying not to let the infamous Arra Sails see his discomfort that she was around him. The same Arra Sails that could whip any vampire's ass in less than two minutes. Larten saw a light twinkle in her eyes briefly. He was on edge already, but that single sign of mirth had sent him nearly over the edge. _Calm down, Larten, _he told himself firmly. _She is only slightly older than you. But…she is a heck of a lot stronger._

"Then what are you begging the Gods of the vampires for? Everlasting life? You already have a taste of that, and ask any vampire that is over five hundred years old—they're ready to go out and just fight to the death." Knives lined her belt crazily, almost as if she expected a full-throttle attack every day. Shruikens lined her belt too, four on either side. Larten wanted to gulp in fear, but stopped himself—he _would _hang on to his strong vampric pride, no matter what happened. That also meant not letting her see his teenage-like emotions.

"I told you I was not exactly thinking about vampire physics, Arra Sails," he told her in a stern voice, wishing inwardly that she would just go away and leave him to brood alone. Why was she even talking to him, anyway? She had just accepted his hand only a year ago, and had never said a word to him since. And she had only accepted his hand because he bested her in a fight that was not to the death, as most fights were, but rather a fight to see who got five blows at the other first.

"Would you mind telling me what you were brooding about so thoroughly? I may be able to give you an answer," she told him, a hint of jeering in her tone. Larten bit his lip from snapping at her—he wanted to keep her respect—and decided if he wanted to answer her or not.

He decided it would probably be in his best interest to tell her what he had been thinking about initially. "Well…I have just been wondering about Paradise. How do you get there? And how can one place satisfy all the vampires on earth?" He felt immensely silly and young as he said this, and it took all his self control to stop himself from blushing profusely.

Arra seemed to seriously consider his question. "To your question on how to get there? Many vampires believe that as long as you lived a 'pure' life—that means not killing unless it's _absolutely_—" she put much emphasis on the word— "necessary. Also, many vampires believe that if you feel guilty of anything, your soul can not peacefully drift to Paradise."

Larten stared at her rather intently. "So…where do the souls go if they _don't _make it to Paradise?" He had wondered that, also. As wonderful a mentor Seba was…he failed to mention that.

"The Lake of Souls," Arra told him simply. When she saw Larten's critical stare, she told him more on the subject. "The Lake of Souls is a 'glorified pond' in which all the souls that are stuck to the earth retread to when they die. They are forced to circle aimlessly around, day after day, reliving their most painful memories and are forced to see all the mistakes they have made in their entire life. They are forced to see all the bad things that happened in their good memories, and all the positively horrid things that happened in their bad memories. It is not a good afterlife."

Flinching, Larten tore his eyes away from Arra's deepening stare. _Ouch_, was all Larten could think. But, as Arra opened her mouth once more, Larten remembered his second question.

"No one is sure what Paradise _is_, Larten. Is it another chance at becoming human again? Would we be reincarnated into humans once more, and be able to live the life that our vampric blood denied us to live? Or would our souls be transferred into a wolf, and would we be able to be apart of our brothers once more?" Her eyes turned brooding once more as she stared at Larten even though he was purposely staring everywhere else _but _at her.

He finally got tired of not staring at her—he decided it was impossible—and looked into her dark eyes. He was rather shocked of how he was beginning to feel about Arra. Not even as a hormone-crazed teenager had he ever felt as strongly about any other person as he did at that exact moment for Arra. It was strange, to say the least. He wanted to find out if she felt anywhere near the same way—how would a one hundred year old vampire feel about a vampire that was fifty years younger?

Arra blinked and continued to stare back at him. _Damn, her expression is always unreadable, _he sighed silently. He decided to respond back at her, since she was probably waiting for that more than a reaction that he liked her—but of course, that was only in Larten's wildest dreams. "So, what you are saying is no one is entirely sure how to get to Paradise…or if it even exists?"

"That is correct," she responded calmly, her eyes still trained on Larten's. Larten had a feeling that if it was any other vampire she would have made her gaze more hostile; but for some reason that Larten couldn't quite fathom, her gaze wasn't the normal glare she had given every other vampire. It was much more sincere than the ones Larten had grown to expect. It was much kinder and much softer than her normal stares. Larten had to wonder if, in fact, Arra _didn't _just like him as a respected individual, but more. Larten suppressed his feelings as he felt himself thrill to the idea.

The two were quiet for a few moments, both standing silently at one of the ending Halls that lead out of Vampire Mountain. Larten knew he had to get back inside the mountain soon; he had to train for his upcoming trial to prove himself a responsible general, and he knew Vanez wouldn't take it too kindly if he was late. He winced outwardly as he thought of what the one-eyed vampire could—and most likely would—do to him if he was late.

"What did you just wince at, Larten?" Arra asked. Larten was surprised to hear the sincerity in her voice, but brushed it aside quickly.

"I have training with Vanez soon. You know my trial is coming up." She nodded to indicate that she did, in fact, know.

She pulled aside to let Larten inside the Hall, but just before he went she grabbed his arm. Shocked, Larten stopped and turned to stare at her, wide eyed. Never before, from what he had heard, had Arra made physical contact with another vampire. Arra's eyes twinkled to make up for the lack of a smile.

"Larten?" Her voice was soft, softer than Larten had ever heard.

"Yes?"

"I just want you to know…that when the time comes for us to vote if we think you will be a good general or not…you will have my vote." She smiled at him faintly, almost as if it embarrassed her.

Larten was speechless. He stared at her sparkling eyes and at her playful smile and became tongue tied. "Thank you," he got out, struggling to make words that made sense come out of his mouth.

Her smile widened as she watched Larten walk away. Larten didn't try to extinguish his fluttering heart as he walked down the Hallway to Kheldon Lurt, the eating hall, where he always met Vanez. He allowed himself to smile in the gloom of the Hall as the glowing mold reflected his glowing heart.


End file.
